Never Forgotten
by experiencetoday
Summary: "I'm not ready to let you go, Granger", he whispered quietly, searching her face for any signs of forgiveness. When ex-lovers are reintroduced to each other seven years later in the professional world, can Hermione come to trust and, more importantly, forgive him?
1. Prologue

"I'm not ready to let you go, Granger", he whispered quietly, searching her face for any signs of forgiveness.

She blinked back tears as her expression softened. Yet the images of the crashing down of the angry words, the incriminating lingerie – the mistake, was too much. Just too damn much.

"Goodbye, Malfoy. It was good, who am I kidding, it was beautiful when it lasted. You are my first but no longer my last," she choked bitterly.

She blindly pressed her lips to his forehead, gently conveying her sadness, her pain, her regret. As his breath hitched, she slid off the golden band from her left hand into his palm.

Tears began to steam down his face as his body shook. "No, please, please, it was a mistake.."

"Promise me one thing, Malfoy. Promise you'll learn to forgive yourself and treat your next love better than you treated me. Don't take her for granted."

"Of course, for you, Hermione. Anything for you." His eyes closed painfully as he took in the situation – a broken marriage, a bitter woman, and most of all, two broken people.

"You were my best friend, my lover, my confidant. I'll see you again someday when I'm ready, when we're ready. Take care of yourself, Malfoy."

Breathing in heavily, she disapperated with a _pop_.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters are not my own.

**Author's Note:**

My other work is also a WIP, as I have not been able to allot enough time to continue. However, I will not abandon that piece.

Generally, I've had a fascination with this pairing - the volatile emotions, the battling of wits, the passion. I apologize now as I am a novice writer and may struggle to do any semblance of justice to the potential of this pair. I'll avoid cliches as much as possible, but more than just the plot, I hope to dive into a lot of character development. The beauty of flawed characters is the ability to grow, especially from relationships. Both will be wary of love and tread carefully - a part of each other still remains with the other. I will avoid referring to much to the past as it will remain canon. The characterizations of these characters may stray from the originals, but will be my own.


	2. Moving On

"Sodium phosphate, sodium carbonate.. Susan, where the hell is the dichromate?"

Hermione rifled through the St. Mungo's immaculate white shelves, the height contrasting her petite form. She ran her fingers through her uncontrolled excuse for hair, frustrated with the new obstacle. Starting fresh after leaving her high-profile Wizemgot career seven years ago, she returned to her favorite place: school. With almost-perfect NEWTs, save one in Astrology, she was immediately accepted without question into prestigious wizard universities. While a bit of an outcast with the age difference, she donned her irritatingly trademark know-it-all attitude, throwing herself into the world of pure logic away from emotions, away from people, away from a painful Draco Malfoy.

And it worked.

While wary of love and men as a whole, her feisty attitude and determination allowed her to blindly push through life with only time for studies and her closest friends. Rising to the top ranks after many sleepless nights and brilliant breakthroughs, Hermione proudly became St. Mungo's Potions Master and headed a department of like-minded, somewhat impersonal researchers.

"Hermione, why are you here so early?" Susan replied, dazedly, cradling her cup of mocha latte like a child.

"Susan, you really need to get off your coffee addiction. You're becoming dependent on caffeine to survive."

"Sorry, darling, but not everyone is insane enough to actually enjoy waking up early. I mean, haven't you ever heard of sleeping in?"

It was true, Hermione rose before dawn in order to watch the sun rise and appreciate it in a childlike innocence. The years had aged her as a wiser, more introspective individual. Her blurry lab goggles muddled her caramel brown eyes, yet notably quite bright, driven by curiosity and the pursuit of knowledge.

Knowledge. Raw, unadulterated knowledge.

It was knowledge which returned no feelings, which showed no emotion, which gave no empathy. Yet it was the same knowledge which was incapable of breaking someone's heart.

It became her companion, her addiction. No, her dependence on knowledge far surpassed Bones' juvenile caffeine problem. The first years were brutal, her hands would absentmindedly encircle her ring finger, to only find a hint of an impression of the slim ring, forcing her to close her eyes and remember, remember the glory days.

Carelessly lounging under the shady recesses of her loft's oak trees, she couldn't re-read her old favorites, to see the dog-eared pages too reminiscent of the past.

"_Granger, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"_

"_Um, Malfoy, it's called bookmarking a page."_

"… _Don't you feel claustrophobic? Don't you feel the imperfections embedded in your innocuous fat memory? For goodness sake, Granger, you're the one who complains that bloody elves are being mistreated and here you are mistreating your own precious books, our precious books."_

"_Malfoy. You're so paranoid __**and**__ a book snob, it's not a baby. Actually, if it was, it would already be corrupted by you. It's just called not having a bookmark." _

And every time she reflected on that specific moment, it hurt. She had gone to sleep with quiet glee that night, because he had acknowledged a want to start a family. But it was that year when all the problems got out of hand.

Hermione pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Workworkwork, living the life of a workaholic was the only prescription to rid the pain, rather, most of it.

Flipping through the files of recent specialized patients, she supplied monotonous replies to Susan's inquiries.

"Have you seen that gorgeous new Healer?"

"Davies?"

"And he was so handsome back in the day, had the brains, too."

Hermione secretly thought the years of Quidditch as a Chaser did well for his physique but not that great for his head, inflating it three times over. To be honest, she held one other student to a high regard as a student, a true competitor. And he was the same person that carried an "ex" before his title.

_Snap out of it, Granger_.

"By the way, the guys and I are heading out for drinks. Care to join? Let it loose?" Bones smiled mischievously, "maybe even meet a new guy?"

She quirked an eyebrow in response. From her perfect thirty-going-on-forty impression with her square lab boots to the ironed lab coat, there was nothing out of place.

Hermione let a heavy sigh, "Not tonight, Susan. There's still so much research to do here."

"You're a-

"downer, I know, Susan. I know."

Hearing her heels click away in the distance, Hermione rested her head against the lab table, silently reprimanding herself for direct-exposure to Merlin knows what. But she simply did not care.

* * *

Malfoy laid a cool gaze on his employee.

"You mean to tell me," he lowered his lustre grey eyes at the trembling nametag, "_Collins_, that you bought an _almond_ latte with _two_ scoops of hazelnut creamer _**venti**_ non-fat," he softly recited

"Yes, sir, I thought- I thought that was what you note said on my-my desk, Mr-Mr. Malfoy," she stuttered, silently cursing that the appeal of her single boss and the fair pay as his undersecretary.

Young, top of her graduating class, blonde – just how he liked them.

"Are you insinuating that my handwriting cannot be read?"

"No, sir, you're misunderstanding me—"

"Are you illiterate? Tell me what this says."

"No, of course not sir, oh, no, sir, no, no."

"I thought you can read."

"Yes, sir, but it was one mistake."

"You messed up my coffee, Ms. Collins."

"Sir, I can run and get you anoth-"

Malfoy peered at his aged silver wizarding watch and Collins noted a different emotion flicker across his face before he regained his cold mask. While any onlooker could take in his pressed navy suit and scuffed Italian leather shoes along with his immaculately kept blonde hair, the dented timepiece stood out as an anomaly, could the richest billionaire afford an equally pristine watch?

"_Granger, what is this?"_

"_It's called a watch, Malfoy. You know, the device that tells time?"_

"_I already have a pocketwatch, oh brilliant one."_

"_This is actually a transfigured muggle watch. And you see this hand? It's not the second hand, but it's one that keeps tabs where your loved ones are."_

_Even after the divorce, that handle never stopped moving. _

"I've already wasted 3 minutes, 45 seconds trying to explain to you your error. As much as you have shown good work ethic," he drawled, "I cannot have someone who messes up my single good thing of the day. If I may remind you, Ms. Collins, how long do I work in the mornings?"

"Five hours, sir."

"And how many cups of coffee do I drink?"

"One, sir."

"And why can't I drink the one you prepared?"

_Because you're a bastard._ "Because you have a specific taste?"

"Ms. Collins, I have a nut-allergy and cannot drink almond milk, obviously," he sneered half-menacingly.

Flustered, the ex-secretary began to gather her things, eventually becoming sprawled onto the granite floor when her heel twisted the wrong direction.

"Ms. Collins, here," as he offered his hand, his expression softened as the girls knees gave out and once again collapsed. "I've already made arrangements for you to work in another part of my company. I just need perfection from my secretaries and an error as fatal as yours cannot be tolerated. The directions to your new workplace is on your desk, Ms. Collins, and I bid you a good evening."

Suddenly, his ex-secretary donned a new countenance, a mischievous glint as she leaned in, failing in her attempt to tease her stick blonde hair, so _innocently_ forgetting about her exposed cleavage.

"Sir, since you may or may not be my boss anymore, perhaps would you—"

"Ms. Collins, my relationship with you must be kept strictly professional. I have no interest in the dating world at this time. Rogers," the security guard nodded in acknowledgement, "see Ms. Collins out, please."

He abruptly turned and slammed his office door, gently laying his head against his desk as he rubbed his temples.

There was a reason he had to keep them blonde and half-intelligent. Any witty banter or brunette hair, especially curls, was too painful. The first year, he had wallowed in his sorrow for one too many months until his friends pushed him around, saying she wasn't worth the pain.

They shuffled out quickly, the volatile anger of Draco Malfoy was not a welcoming sight. One of them left with a suspiciously dark bruise on the side of his jaw.

So, he dated.

He cast glamour charms the aging dark bags, washed his red-rimmed eyes and sighed as the indentation on his left ring finger still lingered. It was a new day.

So for months, he threw himself to the bachelor world, contracting a new pad that screamed debonair and seductive. Girl after girl threw himself at him and he became the ultimate man-whore. _The Daily Prophet _became his life journal and those same papers lay incinerated with evident salty wet-spots near the frays in a lab.

After Maggy, Molly, or was it Martha? Draco noticed a pattern to his addiction – brunettes found at the bookstore with honey colored eyes. His resolve broke, flashing his alluring yet insincere smile, at the vivacious brunette, he was struck with a quirked eyebrow.

"Do you love any of us, Mr. Malfoy? As much fun as we can have, I think you should treat us better."

"_Promise me one thing, Malfoy. Promise you'll learn to forgive yourself and treat your next love better than you treated me. Don't take her for granted."_

He laid a few bills on the table and quietly exited. Because the truth was, ladies and gentlemen, he never did forgive himself.

A male stepped through the Floo, as Draco snapped out of his reverie and glared at who dared to disturb him.

"Draco, you only have three people connected to your Floo. I'm not a stranger."

His glare faltered.

The dark Italian gentlemen peeked out of the office, dully noting the vacated desk just outside.

"Secretary number five in this past month?"

"Actually seven, but who keeps tabs anyways?" he replied humorouslessly.

"Wrong appointment? Late to a meeting? Scuffed her heels on the granite?"

"Almond-based venti latte."

Blaise grimaced.

"And you bloody know I'm not only allergic to almonds, they also make a terrible latte. She just had to go, couldn't complete a simple task."

"Draco, she's human, too, cut the next one some slack, will you? Your demanding nature is starting to outweigh your attractiveness as a boss."

Draco sighed and dropped his tense façade.

"Yeah, maybe, just maybe."

_Draco's hairs bristled as creases on his forehead appeared with his glare. _

"_The cod is overcooked, the lemon a bit overdone, the saffron barely edible and even the wine is weak. This is such a crappy anniversary dinner."_

"_Malfoy, cut the staff some slack. Not only a book snob, you're sort of a snob in everything, food included. Your expectations are notorious, even the waiting staff was already shifting uncomfortably and fixing their immaculate ties. Good grief, love, no wonder your dating life has been mediocre at best. What did the girl have to do? Curtsey and hold a pinky up when she drank?" _

_He spared a grin as she tossed a wink his way and proceeded to whisper excitedly about the new opening of the play across town. She didn't notice how he was barely listening and instead fixated on the changes of her tone and the sparkle within her hazel eyes. _

"Draco, Draco, oh, please don't tell me what I think you were thinking."

"I know, I know, but, shit, there isn't a day when I don't forget, Blaise. There is never a day."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters are not my own.

**Author's Note:**

This version is certainly not without flaws, but it's an honest attempt to try to construct a narrative in which flashbacks from their marriage is tied to the present. It's so hard to do justice to these incredibly complex characters while not coming off as one-dimensional. Redemption is something I think is possible to anyone with an ability to forgive themselves (Les Miserables, anyone?). I am a novice, but I hope with time and experience that I can better my skills. Any feedback is much appreciated.


End file.
